Death By Starlight
by Arigol
Summary: During an undercover operation, Starsky finds that being half naked isn't as much fun as he thought it would be.


Death by Starlight

Ken Hutchinson tapped the typewriter keys and tried to ignore his partner.

Starsky was sitting on the desk next to him, noisily munching a candy bar and prattling with great enthusiasm about his latest date. Although Hutch was pleased to see his friend in good spirits, sometimes it got just a little bit much to cope with. Especially as it was such a distraction from typing the report.

"Starsky!" he complained. "If you're not gonna help me with this, will you please shut up. I'm trying to concentrate."

Starsky leaned over, glanced at the paper and then mumbled, "You spelt 'witness' wrong."

Hutch pushed him aside, looked at the word, and swore under his breath "If you'd help instead of hindering me then this report might get finished!" He glared at his partner as if that would do any good!

To his surprise, Starsky raised both hands in front of his chest in a placating gesture. "I am trying to be helpful, Hutch. You don' want Captain Dobey to get mad 'cos you made a spelling mistake do ya?"

Hutch leaned his elbow on the desk and his head in his hand. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. His partner was so exasperating at times… "Listen, turkey, I wouldn't have made the error if you hadn't been driving me nuts with your inane chatter!"

"Sorry." Starsky sniffed dramatically, stood up and wandered around to his side of the desk. "Hey want some coffee?"

"No I don't want coffee. I want to finish this." Hutch looked up and Starsky's contrite expression completely diffused his anger. This was getting to be a habit! He mustn't let Starsky wheedle his way out of things. "Just be quiet for a few minutes, huh?" he pleaded.

Starsky's grin was of the 1000-watt variety. "Okay, buddy." He sat on his chair and put his feet up on the desk.

Hutch couldn't stop an answering smile then admonished himself. _You need to be stronger, Hutchinson._ _He's demonstrated how he can twist you around his little finger! _He sighed_. Starsky can charm the birds from the trees. _

He returned to the report and was getting on fine until a constant drumming intruded into his consciousness. In annoyance, he looked up to see Starsky's fingers beating out a rhythm on the desk. He scowled at the other man until the noise stopped then returned his attention to the typewriter.

Finally finished, he eased the papers out, signed the top sheet then handed them over to his partner. Starsky glanced over it, nodded, then scrawled his name under Hutch's.

"Now can we get outta here?" Starsky asked.

"After we give this to the captain," Hutch replied. It wasn't strictly necessary but it might pay Starsky back for distracting him.

"But he's in a meeting! Who knows how long it'll go on," Starsky complained. "I got a date tonight."

"Yes I know. Well we just have to wait," Hutch replied. "I'll have that coffee now."

Starsky grimaced but stood up to get the coffee.

After ten more minutes of listening about the delights of Starsky's latest girlfriend, Dobey's yell for them came as a welcome relief. Hutch jumped to his feet, picked up the report and followed as his partner virtually bounded into their boss's office.

Dobey wasn't alone. Lt. Markovitz from Narco was standing beside him and an attractive dark-haired woman he didn't recognise was sitting on one of the chairs. Something was up and Hutch had a strange premonition that it was going to involve them in something he wasn't going to like. He and Starsky exchanged a look and he knew his partner felt the same way. It was strange how he often sensed Starsky's mood and sometimes his very thoughts. He took it for granted now but he couldn't figure out how it worked.

"The Zimmerman case, sir," he said, handing the report over.

Dobey dropped the papers in his tray and looked at his two detectives. "Lt. Markovitz, you know. This lady is Ruth Rosetti, owner of the Starlight Disco on Madison Street."

The woman watched as Starsky, turning on the charm, leaned down to shake her hand. "I'm real pleased to meet you, Ma'am," he said, with a big grin on his face. "I'm Dave Starsky. This is my partner, Ken Hutchinson. Don't know your place but I go to discos a lot. Love dancing."

Hutch stifled his annoyance at Starsky trying to monopolise her and, before his partner could demonstrate his dancing technique, he shouldered him aside. He was secretly jealous of Starsky's ability to dance while he was stuck with two left feet. "It's a pleasure, Ms Rosetti," he said, finding one of his best smiles. He held out his hand to the woman.

Ruth Rosetti ran a critical eye over them both but apart from a friendly nod didn't reply to either of them. Confused by her reaction, Hutch looked at Starsky and saw a similar response in the other man's eyes. Was the so-called irresistible Starsky allure not working on her? How long would that keep his upbeat friend's spirits down? Not long if Hutch knew his Starsky. He hid a grin and glanced at the captain.

Dobey's attention was on the woman. "So what do you think, Ms Rosetti?"

She flicked at the skirt of her smart business suit before replying, "These two are the best so far. They're young, good-looking, sexy, and certainly don't look like cops. Yes it could work."

_Just what is going on here?_ he wondered, exchanging an incredulous look with Starsky. He tried to control the flush that threatened his fair complexion. Sometimes he envied Starsky his darker skin tone.

"This may take a while, so relax," Dobey advised them.

Both headed for the remaining chair, Starsky sitting on it and Hutch perching on the arm. Hutch speculated that they had been called in for some kind of undercover work. Their first job with Narco, at McKinley High School, had been very successful and Markovitz had praised their work.

Markovitz sat on the edge of the desk and looked at them. "There's been drug action going down at Ms Rosetti's disco and three deaths. We can't get any leads as to the dealer so we think the only way to break it open is to put cops undercover."

Hutch felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His unease about this just magnified and if his partner's body language was anything to go by then he felt the same. "Sir, why us? You got plenty experienced cops in Narco."

Markovitz rubbed at his eyes. "Hutchinson, I have experienced men, yes, but Ms Rosetti doesn't approve of any of them and I agree with her. We asked you here cos none of them are as young or as unorthodox as you guys. Look at your hair, Starsky!"

Starsky blinked and covered a grin. "What's wrong with it, Lieutenant?"

"Its **too** long, "Dobey answered for him. "How many times have I told you to get a hair cut?"

Much to Hutch's amazement, Markovitz actually smiled for the Narco cop was not known for his enthusiasm. "It's ideal for your cover. In that environment my men would stand out a mile as cops. You boys won't."

Starsky looked up at Hutch and they exchanged amused glances.

"So fill us in," Starsky said.

Markovitz passed over a file. Starsky opened it and Hutch read over his shoulder. It listed three drug-induced deaths over the last month. All the victims had been found in the alley behind the club. Starsky whistled under his breath as Hutch pointed out the analysis that had confirmed the presence of strychnine in two of the victims' bodies.

"Somebody's cutting the stuff, as if it isn't lethal enough," Hutch commented.

"Yes small amounts but enough to kill," Markovitz replied.

Starsky tapped at a picture. "Hey Hutch, this victim, ain't that Joey Wilson? He was at the Academy with us."

Hutch studied the photo then looked at Markovitz. "Was he undercover?"

"Yes, we sent him in to investigate the drug deaths." Markovitz sighed. "It was a mistake to send him in alone. He wasn't right for the job."

Hutch remembered the man. "Starsky, he was the big guy who boasted he could take on all comers and wasn't amused when you knocked him down."

"Yeah, that's the guy," Starsky replied. "He hated me for it."

Hutch nodded. It had been an awkward time. Wilson had been furious that a guy four inches smaller could best him and being ribbed about it for months hadn't helped his disposition. He was one of many who had underestimated Starsky's strength, street smarts, army training, and determination.

Yet Wilson was a tough cop. There was no doubt that if he had been killed on the job, this was a dangerous mission. Hutch looked at Dobey. "Wilson's autopsy didn't show any signs of strychnine in his body. So why is his death different from the other two? Did he get made as a cop? he asked

"We don't know for sure," Markovitz replied, "It **is **possible that he found evidence on the drug deaths and was killed for it. No clues as to the perpetrators have been found. We need the right men to go in there undercover. We need to crack this case."

"What about you, Ms Rosetti, what are your thoughts on all this?" Hutch asked.

She leaned forward. "If this isn't resolved I'll be out of business. Fewer people are coming to my club because of these deaths. I need help, Detective."

Starsky flicked a page over then looked up. "What was Wilson's cover?"

"Just a regular customer. He was posing as a banker." Markovitz said.

"And the other victims?"

"Also customers. We haven't been able to connect it all yet."

Starsky looked at the report again. "All three were men under 30. They were over six feet tall and with dark hair; one banker, a lawyer and a doctor. Is there a pattern with physical types, dya think, Hutch?"

"Or the pattern could be they were all in white collar professions."

"Did anyone have a grudge against other two victims?" Starsky asked. "Could have been a cover for a hit."

On Markovitz's silence, Starsky and Hutch looked at one another, Hutch reading his partner's astonishment at the ineptness in Narcotics."

"You mean you've not investigated this angle?" Hutch asked.

Markovitz shrugged. "We didn't consider that someone might have put a contract on the guys. It all pointed to OD on bad stuff until Wilson bought it."

Dobey was angrily staring at the Lieutenant. "My men need all the facts. They can't investigate this in case it jeopardises any cover they're in so I expect Narco to interview everyone who knew these victims and get as much information as possible."

"Captain Dobey..."

"I want all the facts," Dobey snapped. "If my men go in they'll need every advantage."

"You'll get them." Markovitz seemed uncomfortable with Dobey's wrath. "This time the cover needs to be a deeper one though."

"Like what?" Hutch asked.

"Ms Rosetti would be best equipped to decide that," Dobey said, looking down at his desk.

_That's odd?_ Hutch thought and one look at his partner assured him that he was just as curious. Since when did someone outside the department make a decision like that?

"Would you both stand up please?" the woman asked.

Puzzled, both men got to their feet. Hutch shifted from one foot to another as she eyed both of them, in a calculating way. As it wasn't the usual manner women looked at them, it made him uneasy.

"Please remove your shirts," she said.

"Excuse me!" Hutch exclaimed, startled. "What the hell's going on here?"

Beside him, Starsky was staring incredulously at her, his mouth hanging open. Hutch could feel his confusion and amazement as if it were his own.

"I need to assess your physical appearances, to determine what job you'd do best at my club," she replied. "Shirts off, please."

Hutch turned to Dobey but his boss was looking uncomfortable and that in itself was rare. "Captain, is this necessary?" he asked.

Dobey rubbed at his chin. "Uh, Ms Rosetti?"

She stood up and shook her long black hair back. "Captain Dobey, from what I can see they seem ideal but if their bodies don't match and if they don't look right then their cover will be blown."

"What kinda place is this, Ma'am? It ain't a gay club is it?" Starsky asked, obviously worried.

She smiled. "No Detective Starsky, my club is a magnet for single women because I employ only the best looking men. Now will you please take your shirts off, so as I can confirm you're not just pretty faces."

Hutch looked at his partner again startled by the odd compliment they had both received. Ruth Rosetti was obviously a hardheaded businesswoman and determined to get what she wanted. This realisation flicked between them and finally reaching a joint decision, both of them unbuckled their holsters and placed them on the captain's desk.

Dobey's expression was apologetic and with that little bit of comfort, Hutch slowly unbuttoned his shirt, as Starsky after a deep breath pulled off his blue Tee. Well if his buddy could do it, then he would too, so Hutch slipped his shirt off his shoulders and placed it on the chair. He glanced at Dobey and Markovitz but both men seemed intent now on reading a report. Hutch took a deep sigh and awaited his fate.

ooo

Starsky dropped his Tee on top of Hutch's shirt and stood there awkwardly. He didn't know what to do with his hands. He couldn't fold them across his chest because that would look as if he was hiding something or ashamed of his body or just plain embarrassed. Taking another deep breath, he hooked his thumbs into his belt and stared at Ruth Rosetti. He wasn't going to let himself be intimidated by this five foot five woman.

She looked him up and down, her gaze remaining at his groin for too long a time, and it took all of his will power to keep himself under control. _Down boy,_ he whispered to himself. _Now ain't the time to show what ya got._

She walked around and as she studied him from behind, he felt a flush heat his face. Women always looked at his tush but this was different. With Ms Rosetti he felt like some kind of specimen being analyzed and it wasn't pleasant. She moved closer and placed a hand on his left bicep. He swallowed and, forcing himself not to fidget he put on the cocky façade that served him so well, and waited. Glancing at Hutch he noted the expression in his friend's eyes, of knowing he was next for this and not looking forward to it at all

After what seemed like an eternity she came back around and then put Hutch through the same scrutiny. The blond flushed deeply and looked down in complete embarrassment. Poor Hutch couldn't cope with this kind of thing and it showed only too clearly on his paler skin.

Finally the woman walked back to her chair and sat down. "I think that you, Detective Starsky would be perfect as a waiter. Do you have any experience at waiting tables?"

He sighed with relief. Maybe this wouldn't be too difficult an assignment after all. "I worked in a bar a few years ago."

"That's perfect. You'll soon learn the ropes then."

Starsky was still confused as to why they had been asked to strip off. "I'd still don't get why this was necessary." He indicated his bare chest.

"My waiters wear only tight black pants and shoes, Detective Starsky."

Starsky felt as if he had fallen into some parallel universe. "What!" he exclaimed, unable to formulate any coherent sentence in reply.

"You'll have no trouble with the pants as I see you wear your jeans very tight. You have a great chest. You're a very sexy guy and the ladies are going to love you."

Starsky flushed to the roots of his hair, his embarrassment intensifying on hearing the snorts of laughter from the other men in the room. He glared at them one by one and grabbing his T-shirt shoved it over his head, and pulled it down.

"Detective Hutchinson, you're a very good looking man but my customers like the more muscled type like your partner as waiters. I think though you would make a great DJ. You have that fresh faced surfer look that many women are attracted to."

Hutch's relief was obvious but then her words must have sunk in. "I don't know the first thing about being a DJ. I don't even like the music!" he exclaimed as he shrugged into his shirt.

"You can learn," Markovitz said. " And both covers are perfect. As a DJ you're on the stage and you can see everything that's going on around the disco. As a waiter, Starsky can mix with the customers and keep eyes and ears open."

"Captain," Starsky pleaded, "Isn't there another way?" He was proud of his body but to flaunt it in front of a crowd of people – women - was daunting. He wondered if he could do it.

Dobey shrugged. "I'm not gonna force you into this. Both of you go and read the report more fully. Talk it over between you. If you decide you can effectively do this cover then let me know by tomorrow morning."

"But Captain Dobey," Markovitz protested.

"These are my men, and I'm giving them this choice," Dobey snapped. "We may laugh but this won't be easy for them and I need to know that they're confident about it."

"Boy are we popular today, partner," Starsky said, as he picked up their holsters and handed Hutch his.

Hutch snorted and with a quick nod of his head indicated that they should leave. Starsky agreed then, after a smile to the lady, he strutted out of the room. Let her look all she wanted. It was on his terms now, and that made all the difference.

"They're perfect for my club. I don't want anyone else." Ruth Rosetti's voice could be heard before the door closed behind him.

Starsky smirked; reassured that he had ensnared her after all.

"Okay, let's go over this," Hutch said. "Hard to believe Narco didn't cover all the angles though." On not getting an answer he looked up. "What're you so pleased about?"

"She couldn't take her eyes off me." Starsky pulled his chair around and straddled it. "She thinks I'm sexy." He grinned as he imagined her thoughts about him.

"Starsky stop acting like a teenager. She wants you to be one of her bare- chested waiters! Can you understand what that's gonna be like? All those women staring at you, pawing you probably."

"Yeah…" Starsky reassessed his earlier trepidation and now pictured the attention he would get from all the gorgeous women at the disco. It was like some sexy fantasy coming true. "Would be fun."

"Starsky," Hutch's voice intruded into his enjoyable daydream.

"What!" he exclaimed, annoyed at his partner.

"We need to discuss this."

"Yeah!" Starsky replied, as all kinds of scenarios played themselves out in his mind. He closed his eyes and sighed.

The sudden shock of cold liquid on his hair brought him back to reality and he jumped up knocking the chair over. He wiped at his face and opened his eyes, as water dripped onto his Tee shirt. Laughter from the others in the squadroom reached him but he ignored it, looking angrily at his partner who stood beside him, paper cup in his hand and with a smirk on his face.

"Are you gonna use your brains, for once, Starsky? How about it?"

"Very funny, Hutch." Starsky shoved the wet curls from his forehead and retrieved his chair. "Let's get on with it," he said, suddenly remembering his date tonight.

"Yeah I know, you've got a date," Hutch said before Starsky could remind him.

Starsky grinned, despite his annoyance. Hutch knew him too well.

ooo

Four days later they trawled through the latest investigations by Narco and found little of interest. The two victims appeared to have nothing in common apart from Starlight, but that didn't mean there wasn't something else to connect them and maybe Wilson too. If there were anything, they would need to uncover it themselves.

After some tutelage from a trustworthy DJ friend of Huggy's, and some practical experience at an out of town disco, Hutch still felt less than confident with his skill at the turntable. Stage fright had gripped him each night and despite Starsky's encouragement from the sidelines, Hutch struggled through each session. He worried that he would never be able to pull it off and hated the music, the flamboyant clothes he was forced to wear, the noise and the smoke.

Starsky had brushed up his skills as a waiter and seemed confident enough in his ability to cope. At times like this Hutch wished he had that kind of belief in himself. It was a trait that he admired in his partner and wished he could be more like him in that respect.

They were due to start at the club tomorrow night and Hutch hoped it would all go well. He had serious doubts though and that was making him very nervous. He wasn't going in unarmed; he would have a gun strapped to his ankle, but he would miss his Magnum.

As they ate at Hutch's apartment that night, Starsky seemed less than his usual ebullient self. Hutch wondered what was wrong and decided that he needed to get to the cause before they were thrown into their undercover roles at the club.

"Okay spill it," he finally broached it, as Starsky was about to leave.

Starsky looked up at him and sighed. "Been thinkin'."

"Don't strain yourself, buddy," Hutch jumped in, but softened it with a smile.

Starsky grimaced. "Y'know I went to the club this morning to see Ms Rosetti."

"Yeah, and you've been real close-mouthed over what went down," Hutch said, trying to draw him out.

Starsky sniffed and sighed. "I tried on the pants, y'know the waiters gotta wear." A flush crept up his neck and along his face. "Dammit, it's… its almost indecent."

Hutch choked back a laugh. "Hey, I thought you were looking forward to all the ladies fawning over you."

"Yeah but, I didn't realise, 'til I saw them on, how low slung the pants are and real tight. Can't wear nothing underneath. I can't hide a gun." Starsky looked down. "You shoulda seen the looks I got from Ms Rosetti!"

"Look Starsk, you aren't exactly shy about your body," Hutch reasoned. "I've heard that the favorite topics amongst the female staff at Metro are your tight jeans and open to the waist shirts. They love you and you know it and encourage it. Why is this any different?"

Starsky had reddened further. "That **is** different. It's on my terms and anyhow, it's the way I wear my clothes. I can't help it if the chicks think I'm foxy."

"Aw, c'mon, you love female attention. You'll be fine."

"I'm not sure I can do this, Hutch." Starsky looked at him with wide, troubled eyes.

Hutch covered a grin. Starsky was such a contradictory character. Normally so self-assured and outgoing but now being childishly shy and embarrassed. It was so endearing that a wave of sympathy swept through Hutch and he reached out to grip the other man's shoulder. How did Starsky bring out all of Hutch's protective instincts and why did they rush to the surface at times like this? So instead of ribbing him, as he had intended, he found himself trying to encourage him.

"Other guys do this job for real and your cover as an out of work actor is perfect. Hey, you've seen the terrible clothes I got. D'you think I'm gonna be comfortable wearing them and making a fool of myself as a DJ?"

"At least you **got **clothes! At least you get to wear a gun strapped to your ankle. You're gonna laugh when you see me tomorrow." Starsky stared glumly at the wall.

"I won't. I promise that I won't," Hutch reassured.

Starsky looked up at him with an appeal in his dark blue eyes. "You won't laugh?"

"I won't. You'll be the one laughing at me as I trip over my own feet and drop the records." Hutch shrugged. "When I get nervous that's what happens. It's so embarrassing!"

Starsky grinned, then chuckled. "Yeah, my partner the klutz."

"You gonna be okay?" Hutch asked.

"Yeah, I'll try."

"You'll be great. Just relax and do your job. Remember we have a tough case here. A cop's been killed as well as two other innocent victims. There's no time for personal hang-ups."

"I get that. We'll solve this case. I know we will."

"That's the attitude, buddy." Hutch was pleased to see his friend's confidence returning.

"I won't let you down, Hutch. Thanks for putting this in perspective for me." Starsky pulled him into a bear hug. "'Night, buddy, see you there tomorrow."

"G'night, Starsk." Hutch returned it, realising that his friend needed this contact.

Starsky was demonstrative by nature, and he had brought Hutch's deeply repressed need for affection to the surface. Since they had become partners almost six months ago, Hutch had found himself becoming more open with his emotions and physically outgoing in a way he would never have suspected he could be with another man. But, of course, Starsky was no ordinary buddy. Their friendship that had grown into interdependency that kept them safe on the street. Yet it was more than that because they saw each other outside their jobs, and were relaxed in one another's company. Nothing in Hutch's experience had prepared him for his relationship with Starsky and he had given up trying to analyse it. It was just unique and very special.

Starsky drew back and smiled. "I gotta get some sleep. Need to look my best tomorrow night."

"Yeah, yeah," Hutch replied, pleased to see the usual twinkle in his friend's eyes. "Go on, chump. See ya tomorrow."

Before he could lift a finger, Hutch found himself knocked off his feet and flat on the floor with Starsky straddling his chest. "That's for laughing at me before," Starsky explained, as he pinned Hutch's arms above his head.

Hutch grinned, not the least fazed by his vulnerable position. "Thought I hid it."

"You tried but I saw right through ya." Starsky tickled his side, grinning when Hutch yelled and doubled up laughing. Shaking his head, Starsky stood up and held out a hand.

Hutch grabbed it, yanked an unsuspecting Starsky's arm and shoved him down. "Don't mess with me, buddy, I'm taller and heavier than you."

Clearly unconcerned, Starsky laughed up at him. "I could take you on any day, kiddo, but I'm feeling generous just now so I'm gonna let you off."

"How noble of you," Hutch stood up but didn't offer to help Starsky to his feet and backed away. It was a precaution well worth taking with his mercurial partner. He recalled the times at the academy when Starsky had taken him down during defence training.

"Chicken," Starsky muttered as he scrambled to his feet.

Hutch grinned.

ooo

Starsky arrived at the disco and went into the locker room. Despite feeling better after having talked with Hutch last night, he was still having doubts about his ability to pull this stunt off. There were two other guys there, changing into the required outfits, and taking a deep breath he took off his jacket. "Hi," he said.

"Hi, " a young dark-haired guy replied, "You're new? I'm Tony Vincente."

"Dave Green. Yes I start tonight."

"The kid here is Andrew Douglas." Tony pointed to a blond with long hair who looked about eighteen.

Starsky shook hands with both men. "What's it like working here?" he asked, pretending an enthusiasm he didn't feel.

"Pretty good," Andrew said, "Y'can earn a lot in tips here if the ladies like you."

"That's great!" he said.

_I bet and if you're prepared to do some extra work outside the club._

He looked at the black pants he was to wear and cringed, but taking a deep breath he stripped off his clothes and put the offensive outfit on. Noticing that the other men were watching him surreptitiously he feigned nonchalance that he didn't feel and, folded his clothes into a locker and glanced at himself in the mirror on the inside of the door. He pushed his fingers through his hair until the curls framed his face and tried not to be self-conscious, but he couldn't help but try to hitch up his low cut pants.

"Place'll be open for business soon but it doesn't start to jump 'til at least 10," Tony informed him.

"Yeah? That'll give me enough time to learn the ropes," Starsky said, willing himself to turn around, for he had the awful suspicion that one or both men were eyeing his butt.

"You done this before?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah," Starsky said. "I need this job. Acting work isn't so easy to get."

"A good looking guy like you?" Tony said. "I'm surprised."

Starsky flushed, aware that Tony was looking him up and down. Andrew just seemed embarrassed. "I got an audition at the end of the week. TV part. Soap Opera. How about you guys?"

"I'm at law school," Andrew said, "Need the money I earn here to survive. My folks don't help me out but one day I'm gonna earn big bucks."

Starsky nodded. "That's what I hear lawyers earn. What about you, Tony?"

The man shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a waiter."

"Nothing wrong with that," Starsky said, but his instincts were telling him there was more to Tony and Andrew than met the eye. "So anything I should be looking out for?"

The two men exchanged glances.

"Last place I worked at in New York, there were a lotta drugs around. The owner knew and ignored it. I just wanna know what to do. Couldn't ask Ms Rosetti." Starsky waited to see what they would say. It might be a lead into what had happened to the three victims.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, she's real strait-laced about drugs. She knows it goes on though. Three guys bought it here. OD. Didn't ya hear about it?"

Starsky shook his head. "Been too busy auditioning for parts. Kinda takes up your whole life."

"Well best to ignore it if you see the customers doing drugs. Some real important people come here and they like to party."

"Okay, thanks. Uh the guys who bought it, how did it happen?"

"Don't know much," Andrew said. "They came here two, three times a week. Danced with the ladies, drank moderately. Two of them were good tippers."

Starsky had a feeling he knew which one wasn't but he didn't speak. He concentrating on showing normal curiosity over their words, trying not to sound like a cop.

"Saw two of them using when I went to the john," Tony said. "Never noticed the last guy use but he was found out back in a dumpster."

Starsky shivered. "Jeez. Who found him?"

"I did," Tony said. "He was cold. Cops said he'd been dead for hours."

"D'they know who done it?" Starsky asked, watching the two men closely.

"The cops were here for hours, asking questions, taking fingerprints and all the other shit they do but don't think they got a clue."

"Cops, huh!" Starsky grimaced, hoping to establish he had no love for the police. It might score him some points with these two guys. "I stay well away from them. They like to hassle anyone they get their hands on."

"That's sure right," Tony said. "I see you've had dealings with the boys in blue."

"Yeah, back in New York."

"Yeah, bunch of assholes. C'mon we'd better get to work or the boss'll go nuts." Tony moved to the door, Andrew following.

Taking a calming breath, Starsky joined them. He could hear the music starting up so Hutch must be there now. How was he going to face his partner dressed like this? If Hutch laughed, Starsky knew that once alone with his friend he would grab him by the neck and shake him! Then he would think up some devious plan and really pay him back.

ooo

Hutch fought to overcome his nerves. This disco was much bigger than the one where he had learnt the ropes and although there were only about a dozen people there, he knew that by ten or eleven that the place would be hopping. He felt ridiculous in the white suit and pink shirt he was wearing and the shoes were hurting his feet. Already he was getting a headache from the thumping beat of the music and the flashing lights and he hoped that by closing time he would not be blinded with pain. He needed to keep eyes and ears open and that was not going to be easy.

Some girls were smiling up at him and he returned it. He would be able to flirt with the female customers and maybe find out some information there. He just wished he felt more comfortable in his role as DJ. He knew he should move to the music but with his lack of co-ordination that was going to be a challenge. Maybe Starsky would have been better off in this role. His friend had a natural rhythm and loved to dance.

Thinking of Starsky, he scanned the room for his partner. When he saw him, he almost choked and, spluttering, turned away to try and control himself. He fought a losing battle and almost screamed with laughter. Luckily the music drowned him out but he knew he had to somehow maintain a straight face or he would not be able to continue.

He had made a promise to Starsky that he wouldn't laugh and here he was breaking it already. That sobered him a little and after giving himself a good talking to, he turned back as the record was finishing and picked out another one. Why be bothered about his cover when Starsky had to wander about exposed for all to see? Hutch knew that he would never have managed being a waiter and he grudgingly admitted admiration for his buddy.

He noted how the customers around Starsky touched his back or his arm or in one case, his butt, making Starsky jump. His partner looked embarrassed, not enjoying this attention in the least but putting a brave face on it. Starsky loved female attention but Hutch guessed that this was different. It would make him realise how women, in similar circumstances, must feel when men pawed them.

As the club filled up, Hutch began to get into the swing of things. The smoke was getting to him and he was very thirsty so catching the bartender's eye, he indicated that he wanted a drink. The man nodded in understanding.

As luck would have it, Starsky was the one who delivered the drink. Self consciously, his partner stepped up beside him and held out his tray. He said nothing but his eyes spoke for him. He obviously knew that Hutch had been laughing and he wasn't amused.

"Thanks." Hutch took the glass and after a long satisfying gulp, he looked at Starsky. "You okay?"

The noise level was atrocious but Starsky understood him. "Yeah. You?"

Hutch nodded. "Anything yet?"

Starsky shook his head. "I'll bring you another drink in a half hour."

"Okay. Hey buddy…."

Starsky gave him a look that brought out all his guilt at having laughed then he jumped down onto the dance floor, moving to the beat, tray at his side, as he made his way across to the bar. Female eyes followed his progress and Hutch smiled knowing that bit of defiance had been to show him he was coping and dealing with all the attention.

_Message understood, buddy._

_ooo_

Starsky wound his way amongst the tables around the dance floor. The customers seemed to like him and he had made quite a lot in tips. The ladies seemed to love sliding dollar bills into his pants and their fingers tended to linger a tad too long for his taste. Not that he didn't like women touching him but there was something sordid about this. Then there were the times he fought to control his body's natural response to a warm hand that slithered over him.

Remembering the job he was here to do, he flirted with every woman he served drinks to and others that he passed by, and concentrated on everything that was happening around him. By the time the place closed at 3am, he was hot, tired and grumpy.

Ms Rosetti stopped him on his way to the locker room. "You did well tonight, Dave. My customers really like you."

"That's great. So I get to come back?" he asked, for the benefit of Tony who was passing by.

"Absolutely. I can see you're going to be one of my most popular employees." She smiled and Starsky wondered if she had forgotten that he was an undercover cop.

"I sure hope so," Starsky said. "Uh, the tips?"

"All yours," she replied, watching him fish them from his waistband.

Starsky grinned, "Thanks, Ms Rosetti. See ya tomorrow."

"Tonight," she said.

"Ah, yeah," Starsky said, realising it was next day. He winked at her then made his way to the locker room.

Once home he called Hutch, knowing the blond wouldn't have gone to bed yet if he were as wired as Starsky was.

"Hi Starsk," Hutch said, before he could even say a word.

"Psychic are ya?" Starsky jibed. "So 'Mr. laugh at your buddy, Hutchinson'. Hope you had a swell time."

"Aw Starsk, I didn't mean it."

Starsky lay flat out on his couch and looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah sure. You lost it. I saw ya. Fine buddy you are."

There was a pause then, "Couldn't help it at first. I'm sorry. Hey I don't know how you did it! I saw those women all over you. I couldn't have done that in a million years."

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm black and blue. Scratched too. Jeez Hutch, I had a hard on most of the time! It was embarrassing."

Starsky flushed as he recalled how one woman had slid her hand down his chest, following the line of hair to his belly and continued on to grope him. He had automatically responded to her and she had been more than pleased.

"Aw, buddy, I don't know what to say, except enjoy it while you can." There was a snicker from the other end of the phone and Starsky said a few choice words in reply. Hutch cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Hey why don't you take a shower then get some sleep."

"You see anything tonight?" Starsky asked.

"Nope, all good clean fun. Hey I got a splitting headache. Gotta get some sleep."

Starsky sighed. "I didn't see nothing either. Hey you make a lousy DJ."

"Don't I know it."

Starsky laughed and replaced the receiver. Yawning widely, he stumbled from the couch into the bathroom for a warm, relaxing shower.

ooo

After two more fruitless nights at the disco, the partners arranged to meet at the precinct to report in to their captain. Hutch and Lt. Markovitz were sitting in Dobey's office when Starsky sauntered in.

"Gee, didn't recognise you with so many clothes on, Starsk," Hutch couldn't help but tease.

Starsky glared at him but after glancing around, and seeing there were no more chairs, settled on the arm of Hutch's. "You're jealous cos I get so much attention."

"Yeah sure. That kinda attention I can live without."

After they made their report to their superiors, Markovitz said, "These things take time. Ms Rosetti says that you boys are fitting in well." He grinned. "She tells me that you, Starsky, are now her most popular waiter."

Starsky flushed a little and scratched at his head. "I can't help it if the ladies dig me!"

"Maybe you missed your true calling, buddy," Hutch joked.

"Yeah, yeah. Captain, you got that report on the employees we asked for?"

Dobey handed it over to Hutch and Starsky read over his shoulder.

"So Vincente has a record. Petty theft, nothing big time. Douglas is clean. Manners, the barman, also clean. The rest are too. What's your gut feelings on them all Starsk?" Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged his shoulders. "Something bothering me about Vincente. Has from the first moment I met him. Guess it's the way he looks at me."

"How does he look at you? " Markovitz asked.

"I think he's gay," Starsky said. "Or maybe bi. He stares at me, same way the women do, and it makes me uncomfortable."

"Do you think he knows anything?" Hutch asked. "He did find one of the bodies and he's aware of the drug scene at the club."

"Hard to tell. I've tried to get information out of him but he gets kinda clams up and just eyes my butt or somethin'."

"You could use that attraction to your advantage, Detective Starsky," Markovitz suggested.

Hutch looked at the other man, angry at the suggestion. "With respect, sir, you can't ask my partner to do anything that he isn't comfortable with."

"He can flirt with the man. See what he can find out."

"Would you do that, sir? Maybe you need to hire some gay cops for this kinda work," Hutch snapped.

"Calm down, Hutchinson," Dobey said. "No-one is asking Starsky to go against his natural inclinations."

"Lt. Markovitz is," Hutch replied. "It's not acceptable."

"Well I guess the rumors about you boys aren't true," Markovitz said with a smirk. "Or are they? You're acting like you're jealous, Hutchinson. Let Starsky speak for himself."

Hutch exchanged an astonished look with his partner. He'd thought those rumors had been laid to rest months ago. Furious, he jumped to his feet and approached the seated Lieutenant ready to punch his lights out but Starsky had somehow, got in front of him and was holding him back by the arm.

"Markovitz, that's enough," Dobey yelled. "If you persist in goading my men, I'm taking them off the case."

Hutch's tension eased, as Starsky's presence and Dobey's words penetrated his anger. He allowed his partner to ease him back on the chair and he relaxed as Starsky resumed his seat on the arm. He would be only too glad when this case was over and they could get back to their regular beat.

"Sorry, Captain," Markovitz apologised. "I was out of line. So Starsky, how're you gonna get information out of Vincente?"

Starsky shrugged. "I'll find a way."

Hutch didn't doubt that he would. Starsky was a helluva good cop.

ooo

When Simon, his relief, took over for a while, Hutch took a well-needed break from spinning the records and, with difficulty, made his way through the crowded dance floor. Gorgeous women threw themselves at him and it was hard to resist their requests for dances or drinks or other more private activities. He had been watching the customers all week and had a few ladies marked out as sources of information. They were regulars, there most nights, so Hutch decided it was time to move in on one very pretty blonde.

"Hi, my name's Ken," he said as she stopped dancing to look at him.

"Marcie." The woman smiled revealing even white teeth.

"How about a drink?" he asked, using all the charm he could muster. It wasn't difficult. She was just his type. She nodded acceptance and as they settled into a booth, Hutch caught Starsky's eye and waved him over. "What'll you have?" he asked her as Starsky hovered over the table.

She glanced up at Starsky, obviously distracted, and Hutch noticed his partner stifling a smile. A few moments later she managed to state what she wanted and Hutch glared up at his half naked friend, and said, "Waiter, I'll have a beer."

"Yessir, right away," Starsky replied with a wink and swaggered away.

Marcie's eyes followed him then she seemed to shake herself and returned her attention to Hutch. "Great place isn't it?"

"Yeah, I noticed you here most every night." Hutch said.

"You did?"

"Hard to miss such a beautiful woman," he replied, reaching out to touch her fingers on the tabletop.

She didn't draw her hand away and looked into his eyes. " Thank you. You're nice, Ken. I like you."

Hutch smiled; told himself that he mustn't get involved with her, and went into a seduction routine that he'd normally never use on a first meeting. It was working well until a well-known voice interrupted,

"Here're you drinks." Starsky placed the glasses in front of them, his body moving to the beat as he waited, his glance straying to Marcie and smiling at her.

Marcie seemed mesmerised by him and biting back a cutting remark, Hutch paid him, sighing as he realised he should leave a tip. Reaching in his pocket he found some coins and dropped them on the tray.

"Thank you, sir," Starsky said with a slight wink to his partner, and danced away.

Hutch grimaced. Starsky now seemed to be enjoying his undercover role just a little too much. Putting his partner to the back of his mind, he concentrated on the woman and soon had arranged to go back to her apartment with her. She knew nothing but he had a pleasant encounter with her and he felt bad, leaving her wanting more, as he gently brushed her off and acted the womaniser the next evening at the club. Under normal circumstances she was the kind of woman he might have had a relationship with.

ooo

After almost a week, Starsky was getting tired of their assignment and he knew Hutch felt the same. He was now adept at dodging around people, with a full tray of drinks in his hand. He was on first name acquaintance with many of the customers and was getting friendlier with the employees. Hutch was improving in his DJ role but he still dropped records or tripped over his feet at times, which only served to endear him to the ladies. Neither of them had seen any serious drug dealing. They ignored the availability of marijuana, waiting instead for the hard stuff.

Making his way along a corridor from the john, Starsky saw Vincente huddled in a corner. "Hey, what's up, Tony? You okay?" he asked.

Vincente straightened up. He was trembling and there was naked fear in his eyes. "You don't wanna know, Dave."

Starsky studied him. Could this be the break they were waiting for? "C'mon, you can talk to me. You in trouble?" he asked, allowing a touch of sympathy to come through.

The man looked at him for long moments with haunted eyes then seemed to reach a decision. "Not here. Outside. After we close."

"Okay," Starsky nodded, restraining his elation. He had a feeling this meeting might be profitable.

Back in the disco, Starsky continued with his duties waiting for an hour before delivering a drink to Hutch and passing on the information to him. Hutch's eyes filled with worry. Then he smiled, held up the drink as if thanking Starsky for it and said, "Be careful. I'll wait in my car."

Starsky nodded and returned to the bar where he noticed as a group of people in the corner got high on something more than grass or alcohol. He was tempted to bust them but knew they needed to hold off at least until they had a fix on who was dealing. Andrew, waiting beside him for drinks, followed his glance and grimaced.

"They're regulars. Every Saturday they come in here and get high."

"Do they get the drugs here?" Starsky asked, making his tone incredulous.

Andrew glanced around. " See the dude over there? Dark jacket, blond hair." At Starsky's nod, he continued, "He sells everything their little hearts desire."

"D'you know who he is?" Starsky decided to risk asking. "I know some people who like their highs."

Andrew looked at him curiously. "You, Dave?"

"Not me but I got friends who do. Hey, Andy, do you know him?"

"Marty Ronstadt. I stay well away from his dealings. All I know is he's a good tipper."

"Thanks, kid." At last he had the dealer's name. As soon as he was out of here he would pass on the details to Dobey to have Ronstadt investigated. Starsky made his way over to where Ronstadt was sitting in a semi-hidden corner booth with two other men. As he did, he glanced over at Hutch, trying to indicate what he was doing. He felt his partner's eyes boring into him and knew he had alerted his friend that something was happening. Their unspoken communication was a major asset in their work.

"Can I get you some drinks?" he asked, once he had reached the table.

Ronstadt looked up at him. "Yeah, that's a good idea." As the men discussed what they wanted, Starsky surreptitiously studied them. Ronstadt was in his 30's, smartly dressed, and appeared more like a businessman than a drug dealer. The other men were of a similar age and. also looked perfectly respectable. "You new here?" Ronstadt asked, after he had ordered the drinks and Starsky was about to leave.

"Yes, sir, I started on Monday." A woman passing by pinched his butt and Starsky jumped and looked around.

The men laughed. "Hazard of the job." One of them commented, obviously dismissing him as an empty headed pretty boy.

Starsky grinned and played on it. "Yeah, the ladies here are great, and I love 'em."

"I'll bet you do," Ronstadt remarked. "Get our drinks, huh?"

"Yessir, right away." Starsky said and went to the bar.

He returned and placed each drink in front of whoever had ordered it. As he waited to be paid, he boogied to the music, distracting the men from thinking that he might be taking in everything about them. The gun hidden under Ronstadt's jacket, the small, unobtrusive, package lying next to his leg, the sweated faces of the two buyers.

Ronstadt gave him a $20 bill. "Keep the change."

"Gee thanks, sir," Starsky said, and moved a slight distance away close to a woman who had made no bones about being interested in him. He allowed her to paw him, flirting with her as he tried to listen to what the men in the booth were saying. He heard part of the conversation and out of the corner of his eye, saw money and packages exchanged. He could have arrested them but they needed to find out about the OD's and the possible murder of Joey Wilson. If Ronstadt was connected with them, then proof was needed.

As the men looked settled in for the evening, Starsky took Hutch a drink and passed on what he had heard and seen.

"I might have found a buyer," Hutch said, as he sipped his drink. "Redhead watching us is a user. She's my next target."

Starsky, although gyrating to the music, was listening intently. He grinned over at Hutch, pointing to the turntable as he said, "Having all the fun, buddy? How about me? I already hinted to Andrew that I was in the market to buy."

Hutch followed his lead and to outside observers it must have looked as if they were discussing the record. "Be careful."

Starsky danced away and was soon in the middle of a group of appreciative ladies. He was groped but laughingly pulled away, teasing his admirers with a swaying rear view. There was a feeling of empowerment in being able to excite the ladies like this but at times Starsky got annoyed at the pawing hands and yearned for the normality of his ordinary relationship with Alison; something he had had to forego since the beginning of this undercover operation.

ooo

Hutch watched everything that went on and he unobtrusively, kept watch on Ronstadt's table. There were two goons, who weren't there for dancing, who watched Ronstadt from a nearby table. Without doubt, hired muscle. He noticed the people coming and going, one of them being the redhead who had spent much of the night watching him. He smiled at her and when she returned it, he stepped down from the platform and asked her to dance. It was a slow tune, so he felt less clumsy as he held her close and swayed with her.

She snuggled close and relaxed against him as he stroked her hair. "What's your name," he asked.

"Sonia," she replied.

"That's a lovely name," he said into her ear. "I'm Ken."

"Well Ken, what d'you say we go somewhere private and get to know one another a lot better." She smiled at him.

He knew she was high, and was bothered about taking advantage of her but he knew that she could be a good source of information for him. "Well sure but I gotta work 'til the place closes. Why don't you give me your address and I'll be there."

"I can wait," she said staring up at him with glazed eyes.

Remembering Starsky's meet with Vincente, Hutch looked for an excuse. "I gotta talk to the boss once we close. No use you hanging around. I'll be there soon as I can."

She accepted that, told him her address and added, "I'll be waiting," She fluttered her eyelashes.

ooo

Starsky was glad when closing time arrived. After swiftly dressing he went out the back door and looked around. It was an unusually clear night and starlight illuminated the littered alley. As promised Tony waited for him nearby. The other man indicated that they should walk and Starsky did, albeit reluctantly. Hutch's car was parked across the alley and he didn't want to stray too far from his partner. He sensed Hutch was there, hunkered down, hidden and that kept him calm. Tony seemed an okay guy but Starsky knew that they could never be too careful.

He halted near the battered Ford. "Okay, Tony, what's wrong?"

The other man stopped and looked at him with fearful dark eyes. "I'm being threatened," he said.

"Why?" Starsky asked, hoping that this might shed some light on the case.

There was a long silence from the other man, and Starsky realised that he was being scrutinised very carefully. "I'm gay. That's reason enough for some people," Tony finally said, his tone bitter.

Starsky chewed at his lip. He had been deemed trustworthy then and had been right about the man, but how was he meant to react? He wished he could call on Hutch, his buddy would know the right thing to say. "So you **were** eyeing my butt," he said, hoping to ease the tension with some humor.

Vincente sighed, "Oh yeah!

Starsky stuck his fingers in his belt and looked down, unsure of how to respond to the open desire on the other man's face.

"Straight huh?" Tony finally asked.

Starsky grinned a little and looked up. "Yes."

"Too bad," Vincente said, with a sigh. "It ain't gonna affect our bein' friends is it, Dave? I'd hate that."

Starsky wasn't sure how to answer. He liked Tony but the man's sexual preference was a barrier between them that was difficult to surmount. "There's gotta be ground rules, Tony. No coming on to me. Okay? "

Tony nodded. "Okay. I understand."

"Tony, who's botherin' you?" Starsky asked, hoping the other man trusted him enough.

Tony was silent for a minute then seemed to reach a decision. "Ronstadt, y'know the guy you were serving drinks to all night. He's a drug dealer. He don't like me and his goons threatened to slit my throat and throw me into the ocean."

"He don't like you cos you're gay, Tony?" Starsky tried.

"He hates gays but I think its more than that. Y'know how I found that body in the dumpster? He must think I know something about the guy's death. His men jump me at times and they threaten me and twist my arm. When you found me tonight, they'd just left. They scare me shitless, Dave. I don't know what to do."

"Do you know anything about it, Tony?" Starsky asked. He had sympathy for the man but he needed to find out as much as he could.

"No, I found the body, that's all."

"Have you told anyone else about this? A friend? The cops?"

"No way," Tony said. "If he knew I went to the cops, he'd kill me."

"Why you telling **me**?" Starsky asked, curious about that.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just need a friend right now and you're a decent guy. I can see that. "

So Ronstadt had to be involved if he was waging a fear campaign on Vincente. It was a start, along with the dealings he had seen himself tonight, but it wasn't enough to nail the bastard to the deaths. If they moved too quickly they could ruin it all.

"Listen Tony, you oughtta go home. Want me to drive you? You shouldn't be out on your own if you're in any danger."

Tony stared at him. "You sure it don't bother you that I'm gay?"

Starsky was silent as he considered the man's question. Sure it bothered him. It made him uncomfortable. On the streets of New York, in Bay City, and especially in the army there had been homophobia amongst his friends. It had mainly been verbal taunting but Starsky, too aware of being in a minority himself, had never joined in, and his sense of fairness had caused him to deflect some of the nastier abuse aimed at some guys in his unit.

He remembered how he and Hutch had been targeted in the past and even recently Markovitz had made a comment. That hadn't troubled him as much as it did Hutch but here faced with a gay guy who was attracted to him, it was a different story. He pulled himself together. He needed to deal with this and finding some humor in the situation was his preferred method. "Each to his own, I guess. Just keep your eyes away from my butt."

Tony laughed. "That won't be easy, Dave, but I'll try."

Starsky grinned and led the way to his nondescript undercover wheels. He missed his Torino but knew that it was too conspicuous, not to mention flashy, for an out-of-work actor. In the car Tony seemed more at ease and Starsky decided to ask a few more questions.

"This guy you found in the dumpster. What was he like?"

Tony turned to look at him. "I'd seen him around the club. Seemed out of place there, if you know what I mean. I heard rumors he was an undercover cop and that's why he bought it."

Starsky glanced at Tony. "You're kiddin'!"

"Nope. He looked the cop type y'know. Ronstadt figured it out real quick. Once when I was giving Ronstadt drinks, I heard… " Tony swallowed hard.

"Heard what, Tony?" Starsky asked not too surprised that Wilson's cover had been blown so fast. From what he remembered the man had been less than subtle and even Markovitz had admitted that he had been wrong for the assignment.

"Ronstadt told his goon that no cop was gonna entrap him."

"Jeez, Tony, you're saying Ronstadt could've ordered a hit on the guy?"

"Yeah." Tony shivered. "I'm scared one day I'm gonna be the victim."

After a half-hour drive, they arrived outside Tony's apartment building. Starsky was considering getting the man into protective custody but he was loath to uncover his own identity as a cop just yet. He faced Tony. "I don't blame you for being scared. I don't like 'em, but maybe you should go to the cops. They could protect you."

"No way, Dave. And I ain't gonna leave Bay City either. I like this place. I got friends here."

Starsky sighed. "Okay, but be careful."

"Thanks, buddy." Tony smiled, and got out of the car. He leaned in through the open window. "Too bad you ain't gay."

Starsky raised his eyebrows at the other man's wistful tone.

"Jeez you're gorgeous, man," Tony commented with a sigh.

Starsky grimaced. That was a compliment he didn't want to hear from another man. "Quit it, Tony, " and after the waiter had walked into his building, Starsky headed back to his own apartment.

ooo

Once sure his friend was gone; Hutch sat up and started the car. He was impressed by the way Starsky had dealt with the situation, and knew that the gaining of Tony's trust could possibly be a major factor in taking down the drug dealer.

He reached Sonia's nearby apartment and knocked on the door. It was opened almost at once and he had to admit that she did look lovely with her long red hair hanging down her back and her creamy skin set off by the flimsy negligée she barely wore.

She threw her arms around him and pressed a wet kiss on his lips.

"Whoa," he said, pushing her away a little. " Let me get in the apartment."

She laughed and let him walk past her. "Don't you want to shock the neighbors?" she asked.

He glanced around the room, taking in all the details, noting the cocaine paraphernalia littered about.

She was either too high or not concerned about him seeing it. "Not particularly," he said as she closed the door and walked over to him.

She pointed towards the small packet on the table. "Want to share?"

"How long've you been using, Sonia?" he asked.

"A while," she said sitting down on the couch. "Hey you want some or not?"

"No thanks." He sat beside her. "Sonia, I'm not into drugs but I've seen what goes down at the club. What if the cops busted the place?"

She settled against him, her hands wandering all over his body. "It won't happen. Mr. Ronstadt is real careful. He only deals with selected clients and none of them are gonna tell."

"Who's Mr. Ronstadt?" he asked, stopping her stroking hand, as it was very distracting.

"He's a big time dealer. Comes to the club a few times a week."

"Why there? I don't get it?" he asked, seeing she was being talkative.

"Starlight is known as a clean club. The boss is against drug use so who would suspect it goes on under her nose?"

"Yeah so I heard but wasn't there some bad publicity a while ago?"

She nuzzled at his neck. "Aw some guys got dead. Heard they took bad stuff."

He stroked her hair. "Aren't you worried about that?"

"Aw Mr. Ronstadt wouldn't sell nothing but pure stuff. He has a reputation to maintain."

"So someone else sold it to them?" he asked, intrigued that there might be a second dealer around.

"Maybe." She nipped at his collarbone. "Who wants to talk about it when there's something more interesting to do."

Hutch held her back and stared at her. "Sonia, you buy drugs from a man you say wouldn't sell bad stuff but how do you know that? How can you trust him?"

"Why do **you** care?" she asked.

"Because I like you and I don't want to see you hurt."

Her eyes filled with tears and she suddenly looked very young and vulnerable.

"Hey, Sonia, it's okay," he soothed, pulling her close. He suddenly had the awful suspicion that under the makeup she was little more than a teenager. As Sonia cried against his shoulder, Hutch cursed the maggots that got these kids so hooked on drugs that their very lives were changed and in too many cases ruined. "You don't need to do this. You can get help."

"I don't have the money, Ken," she sobbed.

"Your parents?" he began.

"They want nothing to do with me any more. My drug habit nearly destroyed them."

Hutch sighed, wondering what to do about her without breaking his cover. Surely, there had to be a way. He would talk it over with Starsky. Maybe Huggy had some useful contacts. "How do you pay for the drugs?" he asked.

"I work." She sat up and wiped her tears away. "Got a good job in a bank."

He stroked her hair. "Sonia, soon the money you make won't be enough to fund your habit. Don't you know that?"

"I know." She sniffed and snuggled into his shoulder and any desire he may have originally felt for her dissipated. She was a vulnerable kid and he couldn't take advantage of her.

"I might be able to get you some help," he said. " I know some people. Sonia, unless you want to slide into prostitution you should think about my offer."

She looked up at him with sparkling, wet green eyes. "You're a sweet guy, Ken. I… I like the high cocaine gives me but I hate the dependence. I've tried to give it up but it's not easy."

"Let me try and help you. I don't buy it about Ronstadt. There's no such thing as an ethical drug dealer. It worries me that he could be lacing it with something even more lethal. Who were these guys that died?"

She sat up and wiped at her eyes. "I dated one of them. Steve Winston."

Hutch recalled the facts. Dr Winston, 29 years old, worked at Memorial hospital, found dead of an overdose on the 4th April. Respected young doctor, brilliant career ahead of him. His heartbroken parents and brothers could not understand how he had become addicted to heroin.

"He was a great guy," she continued. "He's the one introduced me to Mr. Ronstadt. I was clean at the time but…" she shrugged. "I got into the scene with him although cocaine was my drug of choice."

"What happened to him the night he died?" Hutch asked.

Tears welled up in her eyes again. "He got into an argument with some associates of Mr. Ronstadt. Later there were screams and I heard that his body had been found out back. OD. Cops came, questioned everyone."

Hutch recalled the reports of the officers on the scene. No one by the name or description of Ronstadt had been questioned so either he hadn't been there or had escaped by the time the police had arrived. As he gently questioned Sonia some more, Hutch debated what to do. Adding the girl's words to what he had heard between Starsky and Vincente, he decided it would be advisable to meet with his partner and soon. Making excuses as to why he couldn't stay, he left the apartment.

ooo

Starsky opened his door and knew, at once, that he wasn't alone. He tensed. His gun was in his bedroom so that wasn't an option but he listened intently and something about the breathing he could hear, in the still of the room, was recognisable. "Hey buddy, don't ya have a home to go to?" he asked.

There was a thump as Hutch fell from the couch, swearing softly. "Starsky! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Starsky turned on the lights and walked over to his sprawled out partner. He laughed at the outraged expression on the blond's face. "You shouldn't sneak into a guy's apartment in the middle of the night."

"It's almost morning and I didn't sneak," Hutch protested. "I used my key." He sat up and dragged himself back onto the couch. "Jeez, I'm tired."

Starsky grinned and sat down beside him. "Me too and I need a shower."

Hutch's nose twitched. "Yeah you do."

Starsky nudged his partner's shoulder hard. "You ain't so sweet smelling yourself. So what ya wanna talk about?"

They discussed both their contacts that night, Tony Vincente and Sonia and the drug dealings at the club. " I don't think Tony's told me everything," Starsky added. "He could be in danger."

"Not much we can do if he won't go to the police. How do you want to proceed?" Hutch asked

"I already told Andrew that I was in the market for some stuff so next time Ronstadt appears I think I oughta try and buy."

"It's dangerous, but I agree. He's knows you as his waiter and has no reason to suspect anything."

"I need money. You think Markovitz'll bite?"

"He should. And now we got a lead on the drug dealer lets see Narco's files on him."

"Okay, maybe there'll be something there we can work with."

Hutch grinned. "Starsky, you're doing good. I hear the ladies discuss you. If you knew everything they said you'd be blushing all night, but you make a convincing waiter. Maybe you oughtta be an actor!"

Starsky chuckled. "What're they saying. C'mon tell me."

"No way! Stop fishing. You're big-headed enough, moron."

"You're just jealous of my good looks, charm and sex appeal, Blondie," he jibed.

"Yeah sure!" Hutch yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Hey have you overheard what they say about the DJ?"

"**You** stop fishing, buddy. Hey you wanna crash here?" Starsky could see how worn out his partner was and didn't want him to drive home in that condition.

Hutch nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

As Starsky stood up, Hutch stretched himself out on the couch and sighed. With a grin, Starsky fetched some blankets and placed them over his partner. "Night, buddy," he said.

Hutch looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye. " They call you the hairy stud with the gorgeous butt."

Starsky choked and spluttered. "What!" he gasped.

Hutch laughed at him, "And that was one of the milder ones."

Two could play at that game, Starsky decided. "They call you, The Blond Beauty and discuss ways of waking you with a kiss."

Hutch flushed, his too fair skin betraying him again. "Jeez, do I wanna know?"

"Depends how adventurous you are, Hutch." Starsky suddenly jumped him and wrestled him to the ground. Holding him down he whispered some of the cruder comments he had heard about the 'blond DJ'. Seeing that his partner was horribly embarrassed, Starsky sat back, pleased with himself. He loved getting one up on his friend. It was pay back for some of the clever jokes Hutch played at his expense.

"Okay, you asked for it," Hutch said, a mischievous look on his face.

Starsky grinned and settled back against the couch, listening as Hutch told him, in graphic detail, what customers said about him and what they would like to do with him. Forcing himself not to show how uncomfortable he was, Starsky burst out laughing. "You thought it'd embarrass me didn't ya, Hutch?"

Hutch sighed. "I'd hoped but guess that's too much to ask for."

Starsky chuckled. "I'm a big city boy. Nothing embarrasses me."

"Yeah sure," Hutch replied, as he struggled up to settle on the couch again. "I'm tired. Go away."

Starsky staggered to his feet, lifted the fallen blanket from the floor and dropped it on his partner. Slowly, yawning as he went, Starsky made his way to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, seeing his exhaustion in the dark circles under his eyes. He grinned for a moment as he recalled some of the comments Hutch had related and, startled, saw his face redden with a flush. He was glad Hutch wasn't here. He'd never hear the end of it.

ooo

Two nights later, Ronstadt was back at the club, and Starsky made sure he was close by the man's table. When he was called over to take an order, Starsky played the efficient and eager waiter. As he made his way back from the bar, with a loaded tray, he glanced at Hutch, warning him he was about to make a move and saw that his partner understood. Hutch would watch him surreptitiously but carefully.

He reached the table where Ronstadt sat with a big guy, who was obviously the muscle, and placed the drinks down. "Here y'are, sir," he said, accepting the money the man handed him.

"That's okay," Ronstadt said when Starsky was about to give him change.

"Thanks, sir." Starsky looked around, as if trying to make sure he wasn't being observed then bent down a little. "Mr. Ronstadt, I hear you're selling. I'm looking for some…" he leaned down further, and murmured, "H for a buddy, you understand"

Ronstadt looked at him and there was suspicion on his face. "How much bread you got?"

Starsky jumped as he was pinched from behind. _Damn, what a time for the ladies to get frisky_!

Ronstadt broke into a smile at Starsky's predicament as the woman ran her hands up his back and round his waist. Starsky put on an embarrassed act and looked at her, "Er, can I get you a drink?" He pressed back against the table as she crushed up against him.

"Sure, honey. I'm over there." She pointed at a nearby table.

"Hey wait your turn, lady," Ronstadt said, annoyance in his voice.

Starsky smiled to himself. Maybe this would work in his favor. The woman raised an eyebrow and with a final pinch to Starsky's thigh she walked away. "Jeez, the ladies here are wild!" Starsky said, turning back to Ronstadt. "They get me so hot!"

The little incident had obviously disarmed the man and Starsky was grateful that he no longer appeared suspicious. "So how much bread?" he repeated.

"Two hundred dollars, sir." Starsky said.

"That won't buy you much." Ronstadt told him, "But seeing that you're a good waiter and I like you, then I'll give you a good deal."

"Gee thanks, sir," Starsky said, "I got the money."

"Okay, come back in a half hour and I'll have the stuff for you." Ronstadt smiled. "What's your name?"

"Dave Green, sir." Starsky replied.

"I detect a trace of New York in your accent."

"Yessir. I was born in Brooklyn."

"Okay, Dave. See you later."

Starsky nodded, then made his way over to the butt-pincher who had not taken her eyes off him.

ooo

Hutch watched as Starsky went over to the table and made the deal. His partner had fooled the drug dealer, the man being only one of many who underestimated Starsky. He noticed Sonia's eyes on him and he smiled at her, while trying to track Starsky out of the corner of his eye. After work they would hand the H in and get it analysed. Hutch wondered if it was a good batch or if Ronstadt would be stupid enough to sell bad stuff to a first time buyer.

He knew they had enough to take Ronstadt in for dealing but it didn't help the murder inquiry and it was too early too blow their cover. He just hoped something would break because he was going home with blinding headaches each night and it was driving him nuts.

Sonia beckoned him so he left the platform and accompanied her outside. "Hi honey, are you okay?" he asked.

"I need a fix. I got no more money. Can you loan me some, Ken? I'll pay you back I promise. I get paid at the end of the week."

Hutch sighed. He had known it would come to this. "I thought you were gonna go to that clinic I told you about."

"I did go. I just want some Coke, Ken. Last fling, huh?"

"Is Ronstadt that guy with the blond hair I saw you with the other night?" he asked.

She nodded.

"And the big guy with him. Was he the one Steve had the argument with?"

"Yeah what's that got to do with it?"

Hutch sighed. How could she be so dense? "Sonia, he looks like hired muscle to me. I'm scared you'll get into some kinda trouble with them. What if Steve's death wasn't an accident? You said they argued over money. Did he owe them any?"

She paled. "Yes. He told me, two thousand dollars."

Hutch swore under his breath. This was looking more and more like murder. "Sonia, I'm asking you not to deal with Ronstadt again. He sounds like a very dangerous man."

"Hey, Ken." Ms Rosetti stood at the door. "You're neglecting your job. Simon isn't in tonight. You've got to be there all night."

He glanced at her, then realising the music had stopped, he raised his eyebrows. "Um sorry, Ms Rosetti, I'll get right back." He looked at Sonia. "Go home and remember the clinic. Go tomorrow."

He strode into the club, giving Ms Rosetti a glare as he passed her. He hated this assignment.

Back on the platform, he spun the records and watched the crowd, noting with annoyance that Sonia had ignored his warning and was now sitting at Ronstadt's table. There was nothing, he could do about her right now. That aggravated him as she was a nice kid and was getting in over her head. What would Ronstadt demand from an attractive woman who had run out of money? It was only too obvious.

ooo

"It's good grade Heroin," Dobey said, reading the lab report.

Starsky looked at his partner. He could see his friend was distracted and knew why. Hutch had told them about Sonia and was obviously worried about her. "Maybe to start off with but I bet the quality gets worse."

"Unless there **is** a second dealer, maybe Ronstadt gets so ticked off with people who don't pay he just kills them with bad stuff," Hutch suggested.

"That'd be stupid," Dobey stated. "He'd lose potential customers."

"There's always more customers, Captain," Hutch replied.

Starsky thought about his partner's comment for a few moments, then jumped in, "Hutch may be right, Captain. Ronstadt's arrogant and ruthless. He's after all the bread he can get. I don't think he'd care who he hurts."

"Have either of you seen any signs of another dealer?" Dobey asked.

Both men shook their heads.

"I'm waiting for information from the Dallas police. They think they may have something on him." Dobey rubbed at his hair. "Until then just be very careful. You identified him where Narco couldn't but I don't want you undercover too much longer. You need to nail him for murder if you can but if not drug dealing will have to do."

Starsky exchanged a look with his partner. Both of them knew the murder rap would be a difficult one to prove but they would do it if they could.

ooo

Sonia hadn't been in the club for three nights now and Hutch was worried, for since he had started working there he had noticed her around most of the time. He decided he would check her apartment tomorrow and see if she was all right. Starsky was into his usual flirtations with every woman he encountered but Hutch knew his partner was alert for anything unusual going on around him. It had been four days since Starsky had bought the drugs and tonight was going to attempt another buy.

Dallas PD had very little on Ronstadt. He came from a wealthy family and hadn't done much with his life. He had been charged once with possession but an expensive lawyer had got him freed on all charges. He had moved to Bay City only this year and had kept a low profile.

Hutch's musing was interrupted as Andrew brought him a drink. Hutch thanked him and, as they made small talk, found himself wondering how the kid maintained his law studies whilst working here every night. He always seemed bright and cheerful but sometimes Hutch had seen him look at Starsky in a strange way. Not like Tony did but it was more like calculating even resentful. It might just be that he was jealous of Starsky's success with the ladies. His partner certainly got more attention and tips than anyone else did.

Once Andrew left Hutch maintained his watch on the club and saw Starsky at Ronstadt's table. It looked as if more than ordering drinks was going on and Hutch restrained himself from rushing over and arresting the man when the dealer's goon suddenly stood up and towered over Starsky. He swallowed his fear and concern for his partner but it was difficult.

ooo

Starsky stepped back in alarm. "Please, Mr. Ronstadt, I'm sorry. My buddy only gave me another two hundred. I didn't know the price had gone up."

Ronstadt gestured to the muscle to be seated and Starsky showed his relief. He hoped he was convincing enough but the guy had to outweigh him by fifty pounds so it wasn't all show.

"Okay, Dave, seeing I like you, I'll give you the stuff now and you can give me the other fifty tomorrow. How about that?"

Starsky almost smiled. This was going just fine. "Gee, thanks, sir. I'll get it for ya, I promise."

"That's good. I know you will." He handed Starsky a small packet.

Starsky nodded, secreted the drugs under his tray, and made his way over to the bar. "Cover for me," he said to Andrew.

The young blond nodded and Starsky made his way to the locker room and put the packet into his jeans pocket. He knew that, if he didn't bring the rest of the money it could force Ronstadt's hand. It was a dangerous game but one he and Hutch had decided needed to be played. Starsky knew the risks but was secure in the knowledge that his partner would be watching his back. Hutch was very protective of him. This had begun months ago when he had been injured. At the time he had reveled in being looked after but later had begun to chafe. Hutch had recognised this and had backed off but still tended to worry and fuss over him at times and, as he shut the locker door, Starsky smiled fondly at the memories. Hutch was such a pushover at times. Starsky knew that if he played it right he could get the big softy to go along with just about anything.

"What're you doin' Dave?" Tony's voice sounded loud in the small room.

Starsky turned around. "Nuthin'."

"You shouldn't get involved with Ronstadt, Dave. You know how he's harassing me!"

Starsky shrugged and put on an air of indifference. "It's okay. I'm just getting stuff for a friend."

"He ropes people in, and they can't get out of his clutches. People have died. I like you, Dave. Don't wanna see you get hurt."

Starsky could see the other man's concern was real and he sought to reassure him. "Listen, Tony, it really is okay. Don't worry about me." He brushed by the waiter and went into the corridor. He couldn't let Tony get suspicious of him.

Tony fell into step with him. "Can't help it, Dave. You've been a friend to me and there aren't many guys who have…" He trailed off. "Y'get what I'm saying?"

"Sure, Tony. Thanks." Starsky nodded, then returned to work. He wondered though, what Tony would think when his new found pal turned out to be a cop?

ooo

Hutch arrived at Sonia's apartment the next evening before work at the disco and found, to his dismay, that a crime lab team was there. He identified himself and walked over to the body lying on the bed. He looked down into the still face of the lovely young woman he had tried to help and anger swept through him.

"How did it happen?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Looks like OD," one of the team replied.

"I want a report on my desk as soon as possible," he demanded. "This girl's death is important to the case we're working on right now."

Depression set in as he drove to the club. How many more lives were going to be lost before they nailed this bastard. Once in place, he tried to get into his role as DJ but it was difficult. He kept seeing Sonia's face; her lifeless body sprawled out across her bed. He wasn't surprised that Starsky picked up on his mood even in this environment and as his partner handed him a drink, Hutch filled him in.

"That sucks," Starsky commiserated. "Well maybe tonight we'll get him. The only thing is the latest batch he gave me last night is good stuff. Not even a slight variation in quality."

"I wonder if the second dealer theory is so far fetched," Hutch commented. "We know that Dr Winston owed Ronstadt $2000. What if he and the other victim went elsewhere for their fix when Ronstadt wouldn't supply them with any more."

"Could be, but it doesn't explain the cop nor why the stuff is cut with strychnine."

Hutch took a large swallow of his drink and handed the glass back to Starsky. "I know it doesn't explain Wilson's death but it might do the others."

"It could be deliberate or maybe, just maybe someone who doesn't realise what he's doing" Starsky added.

Hutch didn't want to even contemplate that some rank amateur was lacing drugs with poison, but Starsky was right. It was a real possibility. "Be careful with Ronstadt. I don't want you to get hurt."

Starsky nodded and returned to the bar.

ooo

Ronstadt and his goon arrived at 11.15. Starsky watched them settle into a booth and went about his duties. He deliberately avoided the dealer and waited to be approached. A half-hour later after serving a lively group of ladies he turned around to see Ronstadt's muscle beside him. He put on the nervous act, smiling up at the goon and fidgeting.

"Mr. Ronstadt would like some drinks, Dave," he said. "Just go over there nice and normal."

Starsky swallowed, nodded, and made his way over to the table. He kept glancing around as if scared, and saw the satisfaction on Ronstadt's face as he neared him.

"So Dave, do you have the bread?" the dealer asked.

Starsky hung his head. "I'm real sorry, sir, but my buddy is all outta cash."

Ronstadt stared at him. "You realise that this makes **you **responsible for the short fall, don't ya?"

Starsky glanced from side to side. _Yeah I'm real _scared _of ya Ronstadt_. He looked up; "I can give ya my tips. Got around twenty bucks. "

Ronstadt laughed uproariously. "You're some guy, Davey. Look cos I like you, I'll give you until tomorrow night. But you owe me another hundred now, not fifty. Okay?"

Now was the time to get the bastard angry. "But that ain't fair. You can't put the price up like that."

The dealer's eyes grew cold. "I can do anything I like, Davey boy. Every day you miss payment it goes up another hundred. You dig?"

"That's a rip off and you know it, Mister," Starsky retorted. "I ain't havin' no part in it."

The man's lips tightened. The goon moved closer but Starsky turned away in sullen silence. His arm was caught in a vice-like grip and Starsky winced knowing that there would be bruises but he had pissed the dealer off which is what had been intended.

"You'll show some respect, Dave or you'll pay," Ronstadt threatened.

Starsky looked over his shoulder at the dealer. "Whatever you say," he said, his tone insolent.

"Let him go," Ronstadt said.

Starsky walked away, only too aware of Hutch's worried gaze. For a split second he had thought that his partner would abandon his cover and rush over to arrest the drug dealer. Common sense had prevailed though and Hutch had remained where he was. He glanced at his partner, conveying he was all right then looked towards the bar, where he caught Andrew staring at him. Andrew was the one who had named Ronstadt as the dealer. What if the boy knew more than he was letting on? Starsky had kept an eye on him but had found nothing suspicious yet something bothered him and he resolved to watch him more closely from now onwards.

The night wore on and Starsky was getting tired. He knew the goon's eyes followed him and wondered if he was in line for some roughing up. It was possible that Ronstadt might want to scare him. He resolved to be extra vigilant.

It was 1.45 am and the club was still busy. Out of the corner of his eye, Starsky saw a transaction taking place between Andrew and a customer that was not drinks related. Maybe, this was the break they had been waiting for. Maybe he had found their possible second dealer. Waiting at the bar until the other waiter came over, Starsky indicated that he wanted to see Andy in the back. The music was muted there and he didn't need to shout to make himself heard.

"You dealing', Andy?" he demanded, once they were out of sight.

The other man struggled in Starsky's fierce grip. "Hey, man, just sometimes when I need some bread."

"When was the last time?" Starsky asked, recalling Hutch's depression over Sonia.

"Last night but that was the first time in weeks! I ain't no professional dealer. Let me go, Dave. It ain't no business of yours."

"It is when people are dead cos of bad stuff." Starsky studied the man, trying to gauge his reaction.

"What d..do you mean?" Andy stammered.

"What do you cut it with?" Starsky crowded the man's space, knowing it would unnerve him. He slammed him against the wall and leaned in to stare at him.

"Sugar, I just added some sugar cos I couldn't afford to buy any more drugs. Had to make some kinda profit." Andrew's eyes were wide with fear.

"Sugar! Didn't you hear, moron, that strychnine was found in two of the bodies and there's a possible third?"

"Strychnine?"

"Yes. Did you sell to Steve Winston, Mark Johannson, Sonia O'Reilly and Detective Joseph Wilson?"

"You're a cop?" Andrew seemed astounded.

"Yes I am. Now spill it, punk."

His eyes widened then filled and he began to weep. "I didn't know, honest. It was a bag I found when I got my apartment. Thought it was sugar. I thought it'd be harmless. I needed the bread."

"Did you sell to those four people?" Starsky asked.

Andy's eyes were red- rimmed. "No. Not Wilson. Never even spoke to him."

"You're under arrest for the murders of Steve Winston, Mark Johannson, and Sonia O'Reilly." Starsky read him his rights.

"No, please, I didn't realise," Andy protested.

Starsky dragged him into Ms Rosetti's office. Surprised, she stood up and was about to speak but Starsky held up his hand for silence. "I got one of your drug dealers. Bring Hutch here but do it discreetly."

She obeyed and as they waited, Starsky pushed the distraught man into a chair and stood over him. If Andy had not sold to Wilson then it looked like Ronstadt may have been the cop killer after all. "Who was the guy you sold stuff to tonight?" Starsky asked.

"Gene Selby. Oh my god, you gotta stop him taking the stuff! I didn't know, honest I didn't."

Starsky needed to alert Selby but he had to wait for Hutch to take over. He couldn't leave Andrew here on his own but he was itching to get out. _Stupid, punk kid_! A few minutes later Hutch along with Ms Rosetti arrived. Starsky filled him in. He could see the anger in his partner's eyes and understood it but knew Hutch would control it.

"We can't call a black and white in case they're seen. I'll take him in, Starsk," Hutch said, "I'm less conspicuous than you are. You better warn Selby and try and do it without getting Ronstadt suspicious."

"Simon covering for you?" Starsky asked.

Hutch nodded. He pulled Andrew to his feet. "Okay kid, you get dressed then we'll go out to my car. Don't make any suspicious moves. I got a gun."

Andrew was sniveling, wiping at his eyes and his nose. "Yessir," he murmured.

Starsky exchanged a look with his partner and he could read concern in Hutch's eyes. "I'll be okay," he responded.

"Ronstadt's goons were watching you. Be careful," Hutch said.

"They were only trying to intimidate. They want the money outta me so they won't harm a good customer. Take him in and then get some z's. You look exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hutch smiled, reached out to grip his arm for a second before he led his prisoner out the door.

ooo

After Andrew had been processed, a weary Hutch drove home wanting nothing more than to sleep for at least six hours. As he reached the cottage, there was sudden, painful cramp in his gut. He tried to breathe through it and shivered, leaned his arms against the wheel and cradled his head on them. His instincts, what he jokingly called his 'Starsky radar', were screaming at him that something was wrong. Knowing that he needed to see if his partner was all right, he sat up straight, turned the car around and headed for Starsky's place.

The Torino was there but the car Starsky was using wasn't, and that only added to Hutch's dread. _He's not here!_

The apartment was bathed in silent darkness. Quietly, he got out his key and let himself in. Maybe his buddy had car trouble and had taken a cab home. If Starsky was sleeping then he didn't want to wake him. He checked the bedroom but the bed hadn't been slept in. _Maybe he went to my place, _Hutch reasoned. _He coulda got there after I left_.

Picking up the phone he dialed his own number but it rang and rang. Deeply concerned now, Hutch contacted the station, he called everyone he could think of but no one had seen Starsky. His gut clenched into knots now, Hutch knew that his partner was in danger. He could sense it. He disturbed a grumpy Capt. Dobey at home but once his boss realised the seriousness of the situation, his attitude changed and he was all business. Hutch was assured that Dobey would head straight for the precinct and start an investigation from there. Every available officer would be put on it.

After calling Ms Rosetti to open up her club and telling her to meet him there, he dashed outside, took one look at his own car, shook his head, then fished out the keys to the Torino. He drove the car he gave his partner so much grief about and its very familiarity helped soothe him a little. _Starsky, where are you buddy?_ Hutch berated himself for leaving his partner. He should have called in for someone else to pick Andrew up. It was **his** fault that Starsky was missing.

Ms Rosetti was waiting for him at the entrance. As he spoke to her, he noticed other detectives and the crime lab team arriving. "Search the place," he told them and continued questioning her about the last time she saw Starsky.

"I noticed him talking with a customer. The man seemed angry at first but he suddenly calmed and I didn't pay any more attention to them."

"Did you see Starsky leave?" he asked.

She nodded. "I said goodnight to him and he walked out with Tony."

Was Tony Vincente in on it too? "I need his address," he demanded.

Once he had the information he ran for the car and headed for Vincente's place. He picked up the mike. "This is Zebra three, patch me through to Captain Dobey." His eyes were on the road but his heart was thumping with fear. "Cmon," he murmured, impatiently. "C'mon, dispatch, get me Captain Dobey."

The captain's calm voice filtered through to him. "Hutch what've you got?"

After Hutch had related what he knew, he added. "I'm on my way to Vincente's now. I think Ronstadt has got Starsky. I could see Starsky really ticked him off tonight."

"How do you know this, Hutchinson?" Dobey demanded.

Hutch tried to swallow past the lump of fear in his throat. "I just do, Captain. Please trust me. Starsky's in trouble."

"I'll send teams over to Ronstadt's house now, Hutch. You keep me informed of any further developments. "

"10.4," Hutch said, and dropped the mike. He would make Vincente talk if it was the last thing he did.

Taking a shaky breath, his stomach churning, he knocked on the door of Vincente's apartment then waited for thirty seconds before rapping again.

"Okay, okay," a weary voice from inside the apartment called, just as Hutch was about to break the door down.

The door finally opened and a pajama clad Vincente stared at him, did a double take, and blinked several times at the badge Hutch held out.

"You're a cop? I don't get it!"

Hutch didn't wait to be invited. He pushed his way into the apartment then shut the door with his foot. "You left the club with Dave. Where is he?"

"I don't understand. Why you interested in Dave?"

"He's my partner. He's missing and you're the last person to have seen him." Hutch glared at the man. "Talk, Vincente, or you're going down for kidnapping charges. You hear me?" He stalked forward, pointing a finger at him. "Talk."

Vincente's eyes widened in shock. "Oh god! Dave's a cop?"

"I told you. He's my partner. Now talk."

"Jesus, I ain't got nothin' to do with any kidnapping! I like Dave. He's a friend." Tony swallowed hard and began to shake.

An icy calm overtook Hutch as he studied the scared man. He would do anything to find his buddy's whereabouts and if that meant putting the fear of god into this punk then he would do it. Yet

did the man know anything useful about Starsky? "I'm only going to ask you once more. What happened after you left with my partner?" He moved menacingly closer. "Give me every detail. You hear me?"

Tony held up his hands and stumbled back. "We talked for a minute. We said goodbye and he headed for his car."

"Did you set him up?" Hutch snapped. "So help me if you did I'll…."

"No. I swear it. We just talked about the club." His eyes filled and his lip trembled.

"Then what?" Hutch's demanded; his voice harsh.

Tony hung his head and let out a sob. "I saw Ronstadt's goons. Thought they were gonna hassle me again so I ran. Caught a cab and came home." He looked up. "D'you think they got Dave? Why would they want him? Do they know he's a cop?" He shook his head. "Dave's a cop? I still can't believe it!"

"You'd better believe it. Where would they take him?" Hutch knew he was clutching at straws but perhaps Vincente might know something.

"I don't know."

"Think, man. Did you ever hear them mention any place they hung out?" Hutch yelled.

Vincente looked at him in fear. "I don' know. Honest I don' know anything."

"Don't lie to me!" Hutch yelled, grabbing him by the throat and shoving him up against a wall. His earlier control had vanished, and his vision blurred until he could barely see the terrified man in front of him. If Ronstadt found Starsky's badge, and he was Wilson's killer, then the outcome was too awful to contemplate.

"Please," Tony whimpered. "Can't breathe!"

"Talk, punk, you hear me?" Hutch's ears buzzed as his fear for Starsky went into overdrive.

"Please…" Tony's strangled cry barely reached him.

Hutch could almost feel a warm hand on his shoulder, as Starsky's voice seemed to say in his head, C_ool it, buddy. C'mon it's okay._

_Starsk,_ he agonized, wrenching his hand away. He slapped the wall at the side of Tony's head, and hung his head. He was shaking like a leaf and couldn't seem to stop it. _Where are you, buddy_? he pleaded.

"I wish I could help," Tony whispered.

Hutch didn't know whether to believe him or not. His hopes of finding Starsk were being dashed and that was making him crazy. He rubbed his eyes, swallowed hard, and found some control for he knew he couldn't continue in the state he was in. But where could he go next? He could only pray that the teams at Ronstadt's place and the club might have had better luck. He turned to leave but was stopped by the other man's shaky voice.

"You're close, you and Dave."

That was an understatement if ever there was one. Hutch turned back to look at him. "He's my best friend. I need to find him."

"He's a great guy. I wished…" Tony looked down as if unable to meet Hutch's eyes. "I'm sorry he's missing. If there's anything I can do…"

Hutch studied him and gut instinct told him the man was genuine. He chewed at his lip, trying to come up with something, anything that Vincente might have knowledge on. Then it hit him. "Tony, when they were hassling you, was it always around the club or did they ever take you anywhere?"

Tony was still for a few moments then his eyes lit up. "Once they blindfolded me and drove me someplace."

"Where, do you know where?" Hutch asked eagerly. Maybe this would be the break he needed.

"They didn't want me to know but those goons, they're not too bright. Heard one say, make a left on Fremont and it's the second on the right. It wasn't a house. It smelled like meat or something."

"A meat plant maybe?"

"Could be. It was big and it was cold. They took me up some stairs and locked me in a room."

Hutch remembered to breathe. This was very encouraging. "Thanks. You remember anything else call Metro. Ask to be patched through to me. Detective Hutchinson."

"I hope you find him," Tony replied. "I'd hate if anything happened to Dave."

"Thanks," Hutch replied before heading out of the apartment at a run.

Once back in the Torino, he reported in to Dobey. Hutch tried not to worry about his partner. Starsky was resourceful. Ronstadt surely couldn't know he was a cop so maybe he was just using some muscle to try and scare someone he thought of as a client to pay him. Hutch recalled how he had almost blown his cover when Starsky had been threatened in the disco. Now he wished he had. His partner's well being, maybe his life was in danger.

It took him fifteen minutes to reach Fremont but it was impossible to know which one was the right street so he cruised up and down until he got word from Dobey on the locations of two meat plants in the area. "I'm nearer the one on Carlton," Hutch said.

"Okay, I'm sending some black and whites to meet you there. I'll head for the other one."

"Thanks Captain," Hutch replied.

He tried to remain calm as he pulled up near the meat plant. There were two cars there but that didn't mean that Starsky was inside. It could mean anything! Two black and whites drew up silently behind him. He gave the men instructions to go round the back, and then he headed for a small door at the side of the building. He felt naked without his partner by his side but knowing he needed to be strong, he drew his gun and slowly pushed at the door. It opened.

ooo

Starsky's head was pounding. He struggled to sit upright only to find his wrists tied behind him. The bonds were tight and almost cutting off the blood supply to his hands. He forced himself to think straight. They had grabbed him outside the club, punched him, knocked him out and brought him here, wherever 'here' was. When he had woken up, he had found himself on the floor in this bare, cold room. Daylight filtered through the dirty high window but he had no idea what time it was. His mouth was dry and his lips were cracked. He tasted blood, his jaw ached and he was chilled. He wondered how long he was going to be kept here and what Ronstadt was going to do with him.

Did anyone know he was missing? Did Hutch? Surely after processing Andrew, Hutch would have tried to contact him. Or maybe he had gone home for some sleep. Starsky swore. How was he going to get out of this? Was Ronstadt trying to scare him like he had Tony? If so then surely he would be released soon. Then he remembered his badge in his jean pocket. If they searched him! He recalled what had happened to Joey Wilson and shuddered.

_Hutch, I need you to be looking for me, buddy. I'll let you drive my car if you find me._

The sounds of footsteps penetrated and getting himself into character, he huddled on the floor and shivered. The door opened and three pairs of shoes came into his line of vision. _You're on, David_, he told himself.

"So Davey, what a mess you've gotten into," Ronstadt gloated.

Starsky looked up, making his eyes widen with fear. "Gee, Mr. Ronstadt, I'm sorry, I really am. I'll get your money somehow! I promise ya."

"You were disrespectful, Davey. I don't like people being disrespectful to me."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I promise sir. I promise."

Ronstadt smiled. "That's more like it, Davey."

"Yessir." Starsky was galled by what he was saying but knew that waiter Dave would behave this way.

"Okay, then has this taught you a lesson?"

"It has, sir. It has."

Ronstadt walked around him. "See if he has any bread on him."

Starsky froze, knowing that if they found his badge he was dead! He had some money in his jacket. If they searched there maybe then they wouldn't go any further. One goon, none too gently, hauled him to his feet while the other frisked him. He breathed again when the money was found. Maybe his luck would hold.

Ronstadt took the money and counted it. "Forty six dollars! Is this all from tips? You sure are popular with the ladies, Dave."

"He ain't so pretty," the muscle holding him said.

Ronstadt laughed. "He's got a certain charm so I've heard the ladies say."

The muscle sneered.

"What's this?" Ronstadt said, his hand reaching for the back pocket of Starsky's jeans.

Starsky pressed back against goon one, lifted his legs in the air, then kicked out hard and hit the jackpot with goon two in front of him. The man groaned, clutched at himself and fell to his knees.

"Hold him!" Ronstadt shouted.

Starsky had little defence against goon one who was at least six feet six and must weigh over two hundred pounds. Despite that he struggled and tried to do as much damage as he could with his head and both feet. There was a grunt and Starsky knew he had hurt the man. Taking heart from that he struggled on until he was kneed in the back, hit hard on the side of the head and soon overpowered and thrown flat on his stomach on the dirty floor. His badge was taken out of his pocket. He was dragged onto his side and a hard kick to his chest made him cry out in pain.

"Well, well, look at this!" Ronstadt said, his voice silky smooth. "Sit him up, Bill."

He was hauled up and slammed against the wall where he sat, breathing hard, his head reeling, chest aching and wondering what he was going to do now.

"Who would've believed you're a cop? Detective David Starsky. Metropolitan Division. Jeez, Detective Starsky, haven't standards dropped in the police department? How can anyone trust the cops when they recruit punks like you? Look at you? I've seen street hoodlums dress better."

Starsky sneered up at him. "Fooled **you** didn't I?"

Ronstadt pulled out a gun. "Sure did, Detective Starsky. You did well, unlike that other cop. He couldn't've fooled anyone!"

Starsky's heart jumped into his mouth. Was he hallucinating? Had he really seen movement by the open door, the glint of familiar platinum blond hair? He shook his head to try and clear it and regretted the action immediately as a wave of dizziness overcame him and left him nauseous.

He forced himself under control. "The one you wasted and left outside in the dumpster?" he asked, stalling for time and hopefully a confession.

"Yeah that one. It was laughable. He hadn't a clue. His whole appearance just screamed 'cop'!"

"Why'd you do it, Ronstadt? Why'd you OD him?"

Ronstadt was warming to his subject and crouched down near Starsky. "I was real clever. Two guys had OD'd near the club. Whoever was responsible would take the fall for the cop or else it'd be written off as accidental. No-one would associate me with his death."

"You weren't so smart after all Ronstadt, " Starsky goaded. "We got the guy responsible for those two drug deaths and we know he didn't kill the cop."

_Keep him talking. Already got confessions and witnesses too if that really was Hutch and the cavalry out there. _It was difficult to concentrate though. He ached all over and the nausea was overwhelming.

"How'd you know that?" Ronstadt asked, waving the gun at him then he sneered. "It was that punk, Tony wasn't it? Knew he was poaching my customers."

"Is that why you harassed him?" Starsky asked.

"Didn't need any excuse to harass that fag. He deserved it."

"You gonna shoot me?" Starsky asked, looking at the gun. "I thought you preferred using needles."

"I can make an exception to the rule, cop. However it goes down, you're dead."

Starsky trusted his partner implicitly. Hutch was waiting for the right moment and Starsky was about to give him a signal. "Listen, Ronstadt, you can't get away with it. My partner's gonna catch you. I'm warning you, he ain't a guy to mess with."

Ronstadt laughed and stood up. "Tough talk from a guy who's tied up? I got the gun, cop and I'm gonna use it."

It was now or never. Ignoring the pain, and using the full force of his upper body, Starsky launched himself at Ronstadt's knees. The man lost his balance and, as Hutch followed by four uniformed cops burst into the room, Starsky flung himself out of the way.

He huddled against the wall, gasping with pain, but noting with satisfaction that it was all over within a minute. As the three men were restrained, and read their rights, Hutch knelt beside him and with shaking but sure hands untied him. "Are you okay, buddy?" he murmured.

Starsky looked up at his friend, elated that he was there. Now everything would be all right. "Yeah, I am now. Real glad to see you, pal."

Hutch looked over at the officers about to take their prisoners out. "Call an ambulance."

"I don' need an ambulance," Starsky protested.

Hutch put an arm around Starsky. "You're hurt. You're going to the ER."

Starsky relaxed against Hutch's side and sighed with relief. His partner's warmth and concern flowed over him easing the queasiness and dulling his body's aches and pains. Hutch had this wonderful nurturing way about him that just defied description. "It's nuthin'" he murmured.

"Where's the pain?" Hutch ran his hands over Starsky's back and chest.

Starsky winced when the gentle touch reached a particularly painful area.

"Might be a cracked rib," Hutch said, worry written on his face.

"I'm okay, Hutch."

"No you're not. If you were okay you'd be whining over every little ache. When you go all stoic is when I know you're hurt."

Starsky laughed, but as a sharp pain assailed him, it turned into a groan. "Shit!" he spat.

"Easy now, buddy. Just rest. Ambulance will be here soon. What did those bastards do to you?" Hutch's fingers probed his head and Starsky flinched. "You got a bump, buddy. They knocked you out?"

"Yeah, and roughed me up a bit. I'm okay, honest."

"You did some damage though, tough guy," Hutch said with a smile.

"Yeah, not bad for a guy whose hands were tied. Huh?" Starsky tried to joke but a shiver went through his body and he leaned closer into his partner's warmth.

"Not bad at all. Just stay here and don't move. You're cold." Hutch struggled to take his jacket off but he managed and placed it over Starsky's shoulders.

"Yeah I'm cold. What kinda place is this anyhow?"

"A meat plant."

"Figures. How'd you find me, Hutch?" Starsky knew he wasn't thinking straight. His head felt like there was an army of drummers inside and his vision was blurring.

Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky's body, as if trying to give him some of his body heat. "Tony remembered being taken someplace by Ronstadt's goons."

Starsky listened to how they had pieced it all together. He was grateful to everyone and he vowed to thank Tony once things had settled down. Hutch was talking softly to him and, despite the pain, he felt himself become drowsy. _That's my buddy_, he said to himself. _Can put a guy to sleep. _That struck him as funny and he laughed, catching his breath as his ribs protested. Moments later his eyelids grew heavy.

Annoying pats on his cheek roused him, and he blinked and opened his eyes wide to see Hutch's big hand slapping his face. "Hey what you doing?"

"Keeping you awake. You might have a concussion."

"Ain't fair, Hutch. I'm so tired."

"I know, buddy. I know."

Heavy footsteps thumping up the stairs brought Starsky instantly alert but when he saw his Captain enter the room, he relaxed.

"How are you, son?" Dobey asked.

"Doin' fine, Cap." His head lolled on Hutch's shoulder and he looked up into his partner's concerned face.

"Ambulance will be here soon. Just hang in there, buddy," Hutch reassured.

Starsky nodded, half-heartedly listening as Hutch and Dobey discussed the case. He was warmer now and secure in his partner's care. His captain's presence didn't bother him and he knew Hutch had no qualms these days about showing their close relationship. At one time though, the blond would have been horribly embarrassed over any such display. _How times have changed_, Starsky mused as they waited for the paramedics to arrive.

ooo

Hutch stayed with Starsky for a few days; happy to take care of him until at last realising how much he was being taken advantage of. This he knew was a sure sign of improvement. Now was the time to put his foot down but even though he was wise to Starsky dramatics, it was difficult and if he was honest with himself, he didn't really mind. He was only too grateful that he had arrived in time to prevent his partner being wasted.

Help came with the arrival of Starsky's current girlfriend and before his partner could protest, Hutch was out the door and driving back to his own apartment. His buddy would be fine now in Alison's tender care. "Time for you to get your independence back, pal," Hutch murmured as he collapsed into his own bed, heaven after the uncomfortable couch he had been sleeping on.

The night before Starsky was to return to work, he persuaded Hutch to go to Starlight. "I want to see Tony again and thank him."

"You sure you want to go there?" Hutch asked, from the passenger seat of the Torino.

"Sure I do. Maybe I can dance this time instead of prancing' around half-naked and carrying drinks."

"What about that busted rib? You gotta be careful." Hutch sighed. He was in worry-mode again but he couldn't help it where Starsky was concerned.

Starsky glanced at him and smiled, a knowing look in his eyes, and Hutch flushed a little positive that he had been read like an open book.

Their entrance caused a bit of a stir. The arrest had been big news and no doubt there were rumors flying around about them. Hutch tried to smile as; they were surrounded by excitable women, all talking at once. Starsky soon had them silenced pouring on the charm as he explained they had been undercover and weren't coming back as either waiter or DJ.

"Can't believe I've been pinching a cop's butt!" one woman exclaimed.

"Schweetheart, don' worry," Starsky said in his corny Bogart voice, "I ain't gonna arrest you for accosting a police officer."

"There'd be too many to arrest!" another responded.

"That's for sure," Hutch commented. "Excuse us, ladies we have to see someone."

"Jealous that I'm a chick magnet?" Starsky asked as they made their way across the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, delude yourself, buddy," Hutch replied.

Starsky grinned at him, then nudged him hard with his shoulder. Hutch tripped forward losing his balance until a strong hand grabbed his elbow and held fast.

"Klutz," Starsky commented, affection in his voice.

Tony stood by the bar watching them and Starsky stopped in front of him. "Can we talk?"

The young man smiled and nodded then led the way into the back to where Ms Rosetti was standing by her office door. "I saw you come in," she said. "I really want to thank you both. My only regret now is losing my most popular waiter and DJ."

Hutch felt himself flush. "Hey I was a hopeless DJ."

"My customers liked you, Ken." She appraised Starsky. "And they really liked you, Dave."

Starsky's grin was dazzling. "I had fun, Ms Rosetti, though I hated the outfit I had to wear."

"You looked good in it, Dave. Any time you want a career change there's always a job for you here."

Hutch didn't know whether to be amused or offended that she didn't offer **him** a job, but he had to admit that he would not miss being a DJ.

Ms Rosetti indicated her office. "You want to talk in there?"

"Thank you," Starsky said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Hutch rolled his eyes at Starsky's charm offensive. Yet most women just fell for it even this tough businesswoman before them was succumbing. She looked up at Hutch and smiled and he, realising he was expected to follow his partner's lead, bent down and gave her a peck.

The three men entered the office and Hutch closed the door. He leaned against it and watched as the other two spoke.

"I have you to thank for my life, Tony. If you hadn't remembered what you did, Hutch wouldn't have found me in time."

Tony shuffled his feet and looked down. "It was nuthin'".

"It was more than that, kid."

Tony looked up at him. "I can still hardly believe you're a cop, Dave. You made a real good waiter. You got more tips than any of us!"

"Gee thanks," Starsky said, with a grin. He looked over at Hutch and raised an amused brow.

"Hey, I never thought I'd say this to a cop but, Dave, you're a great guy"

"Cops are people too, Tony," Starsky responded.

"Guess so. I'm so used to thinking of the police as enemies, who harass me, something to be feared. "

"Homophobia's everywhere, Tony. Prejudice of all kinds. Maybe one day that'll change." Starsky's eyes flicked over to him in question, and Hutch nodded slightly, confirming that he was ready to leave.

Tony followed his glance and looked at Hutch curiously. "You guys have a real connection, y'know?"

"We know," Starsky said. "We're partners and friends and that means looking out for one another."

"He was going crazy when you were missing. I thought he was gonna flip."

Starsky smiled at him and Hutch returned it despite embarrassment over Tony's words. He **had **been on a knife-edge and the observant man had noticed it. _Starsk is my weak spot but he's also my strength_, Hutch observed. _I wouldn't want it any other way_.

Starsky seemed to understand for his expression showed that he reciprocated those feelings. Hutch felt a deep awe over this manifestation of their strange empathy. It never failed to amaze him and he suspected that it never would.

Starsky held out his hand. "Thanks, Tony."

Tony looked at the outstretched hand for a moment, then shook it. "It was great workin' with you Dave. Other straight guys woulda beat me up or shut me out. You tried to help me. You were a friend. Thanks for that."

Starsky nodded, released Tony's hand, and stepped back. Hutch could see he had been uncomfortable with the other man's clinging grip. "Let's go, buddy," he said.

"Sure," Starsky replied, and walked towards him.

The other man's eyes fixed on his partner's butt. Hutch grimaced, opened the door, letting Starsky go through first then glanced back at Tony. The man blushed, knowing he had been caught. He grinned and shrugged.

Once outside the room, Hutch put an arm around his partner's shoulder. "So you still want to dance?"

"You asking me?" Starsky joked, his eyes twinkling.

Hutch laughed. "I'll sit it out. There aren't many things you can outclass me on, chump, but dancing is one."

"One day I'll teach ya, buddy," Starsky promised.

"I don't think so," Hutch replied. The very thought of his partner teaching him to dance was ludicrous. Yet he had never known Starsky to break a promise. Hutch shuddered and wondered just what he was in for in the future with his enthusiastic friend and those crazy schemes of his.

As they re-entered the disco, Starsky lost no time in heading for a group of female admirers. Hutch sitting with Ruth Rosetti, and now, holding his partner's leather jacket, and holster and gun for safe-keeping, could only shake his head at the spectacle of his buddy, wearing his normal blue jeans and a red Tee shirt, going from one woman to another enthusiastically dancing with each.

"He's some dancer!" Tony said, admiringly, as he placed a beer on the table beside Hutch.

Hutch looked up at him. "He loves to dance." He took a sip of his drink, aware of the man standing beside him, eyeing his buddy gyrate in the same way the watching women were. That made **him** uneasy so he could only guess at how Starsky must feel at Tony's interest in him.

"He ain't a typical cop and neither are you," Tony finally tore his gaze away.

Hutch grinned. "Guess not."

Starsky chose that moment to stagger over, breathing heavily and flushed from his exertions. He flopped down on the chair next to Hutch, appropriated the beer and took a deep gulp. He sighed with contentment, then passed the drink back and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Can I get you a beer, Dave?" Tony asked.

Starsky sighed, grinned over at Hutch, and replied, "Nah, its okay." He looked at Ms Rosetti. "I got my second wind. You wanna dance?"

To Hutch's surprise, the normally reserved woman smiled at his partner and stood up. "Certainly, Dave," she replied, holding out her hand to him. "I hope you return here. I love the way you move."

As the couple made their way to the dance floor, Tony looked at Hutch. "You guys are really tight. I ain't never seen anything like it before."

"We've got an unique partnership." Hutch said, knowing he had never said a truer word.

A young waiter Hutch had never seen before stopped by the table and smiled at Tony. "That the guy you told me about?" he asked, indicating Starsky dancing up a storm with their boss.

Tony grinned. "Yep."

"Wow!" The man whistled appreciatively.

Hutch cleared his throat and both waiters seemed to remember where they were.

"This is Danny," Tony said, with a touch of embarrassment. " He started here last week. Um, Danny, this is Detective Hutchinson."

"Hi. Good luck in the new job," Hutch replied.

"Difficult to fill his shoes, I hear," Danny replied.

Hutch laughed. "My partner's good at whatever he does."

"I'll bet," Tony commented, sharing a flirtatious look with the new waiter.

A little embarrassed and, not knowing how to reply to that, Hutch was relieved to see a woman he had flirted with during his stint as DJ, approaching him. Standing up he greeted and invited her to sit down. Maybe he wouldn't need to spend the next hour waiting for Starsky to exhaust himself. Perhaps he could have a little fun of his own. With that pleasant thought he settled in to enjoy himself.

The two waiters moved away and as Starlight pulsed to the beat of the music Starsky and Hutch, released from the pressure of being undercover, relaxed there for the first time.

The End


End file.
